


From one Hell to Another

by Carter_Ash_Official



Series: Chronicles of Carmadda Shade [2]
Category: swtor - Fandom
Genre: swtor smuggler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carter_Ash_Official/pseuds/Carter_Ash_Official
Summary: Carmadda and Corso (along with MT-4T) are going from Ord Mantell to Coruscant on a travel cruiser.





	From one Hell to Another

The travel cruiser was a mess.

A bright, neon, over-crowded mess. Anyone who could afford tickets to this was making sure everyone else knew. People elbowed their way off the shuttle, strutting ahead in shimmering tunics and expensive clothes, the stench of newfound wealth reeking off them.

The refugees hung back, guarded.

Carmadda stood in the middle of it all, not a refugee, not a pompous trader who made it big with the war. Stood could be a generous exaggeration. Hopped would be more accurate. MT-4T had ran over her foot again. And she wasn’t happy about it.

The mini-astromech whirled down the ramp, beeping unpleasantly.

“Yeah? You can’t smell them.” She shoved her hands into her pockets and gave a staring trader one of her most venomous glares, tired of him ogling her during the shuttle ride.

Corso took the optimistic route for her droid. “They… ain’t that… You know, Captain, they do smell real bad.”

“You think so now, wait until we get within a parsec of the Senate Tow-.” Carmadda stopped as she realized he wasn’t walking with them anymore. She turned and rolled her eyes.

Corso had been sidetracked by an enormous viewport.

Ord Mantell glittered below, seas just a gray mass and the continents and islands little orange specks. The Republic fleet was wrapped around the world like a blanket. As they watched, a squad of escort fighters peeled away from the shuttle and returned to the fleet.

“This is the best feelin’,” Corso bubbled. “A sky full of stars… A new planet waitin’ across the galaxy… it never gets old.”

_ You got off that miserable pebble? And then returned? Willingly? _

Carmadda gave him a sidelong look. “I thought you’d never been off Ord Mantell.”

“You know that much about me, Captain?”

“No. I don’t see why anyone would go back.”

He turned away from the viewport, frowning. “You sayin’ you wouldn’t go back to your family and home? ‘Cause we’re headin’ across the galaxy to get yours back from that star-stealin’ no-good ronto rear.” Corso studied her, waiting for a response.

Carmadda met his gaze flatly, getting the feeling that he didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, and was fed up with her bitter attitude. But he was still making the effort to try and like her, not that she wanted him to. Carmadda crossed her arms. “And how’s your family now?”

Corso’s lip curled in disgust. “That ain’t nice, Captain.” He left her standing at the viewport alone.

MT-4T followed him.

Carmadda snagged a freight droid and handed it her pack. “Get this to the room on my ticket. Then get yourself an oil bath on me.” She handed it a couple credits and took off for the market level.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Captain Shade- She- _

_ Under the boardwalk- _

_ It just that- _

Corso tried to push out the song stuck in his head. It was making it hard to be peeved at the Captain.

Her little droid beeped and shot past him, whizzing down the crowded hallway to the bunkroom that came with the ticket. Traders and merchants were pushing each other, all insisting they had the wrong rooms, they couldn’t be this tiny, they’d paid good money.

Corso couldn’t help but notice that none of them boasted that the money was hard-earned. He reached the door to his bunk and let the droid in first.

Two beds were separated with a squished nightstand. The ‘fresher looked small enough that he’d have to step outside to use his elbows, and a tiny porthole gave the view of the galaxy from above the nightstand.

It looked like a comfy little room.

“Pardon me.” A lifter droid pushed its way in.

The captain’s droid beeped furiously and brandished its tazer at the new droid as it deposited a bag onto a bed. A familiar bag. Captain Shade’s bag.

The droid left and the little astromech beeped.

Corso had no idea what it said. “You… what, want to see the stars? Get an oil bath?” Did the droid need supervision?

Memories of losing the blasted thing for a minute on Ord Mantell surfaced in his mind. Yes, the droid needed a babysitter, and Captain Shade wasn’t here.

_ Aw hell. She’s goin’ to owe me. Again. _

Corso opened the door. “I’ll follow you, lil’ bugger.”

The droid beeped and went screaming down the hallway.

_ Uh-oh. _

He ran after the droid, squeezing between arguing traders with liberal use of his elbows. Corso caught up with it at the empty lift and frowned as they entered. “Now listen here. No rollin’ ahead like that. Your captain won’t be thankin’ me if you go missin’.”

The droid beeped. Actually, it was more of a… a bleep? It sounded different to the usual sounds he gave off. MT-4T was… Could droids be sullen?

The lift paused on a level and a Torguta woman in not much of anything joined them. She stood a little too close to Corso, angling herself to give her a good look at everything her clothes didn’t cover.

Corso focused intently the numbers above the door.

 

* * *

 

 

“That’s bantha piss.”

The thief calling himself a vendor snorted. “It’s a great deal.”

“For you.” Carmadda moved on further down the market stalls.

Salespeople eyed her, debating if she was a trader with money or a broke refugee. She just wanted a fucking blaster. Corso had lent her his, but it felt wrong just keeping it. The scattergun she didn’t feel guilty about. Viidu was dead, his workers gone. And same with the stealth belt.

That would be useful. So many pranks on the Senator… and she couldn’t be caught doing them. Or she could use it for smuggling…

She stopped at the last stalls and grumbled.

No half-decent blasters for a half-decent price.

Maybe the food deck would be better.

 

* * *

 

 

“So where are you from?”

Corso flashed the Torguta a polite smile and went back to keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor numbers. “Ord Mantell, ma’am.”

“Oh, so you’re a trader?”

He inwardly sighed. Ord Mantell was a trade world, yes, but no one was really a trader. Traders came to Ord Mantell. They didn’t grow up on the planet. Ord was home to farmers and soldiers and the odd politician. Viidu was a trader though-  _ Had  _ been. Viidu had been a trader. And Corso had been an employee…

“Yeah, ma’am.”

“You don’t need to call me ma’am.” She was wearing a very strong perfume.

Corso held his breath to keep from sneezing. “It’s the nice thing to do, ma’am.”

“I’m not always nice,” she purred. One of her fingers tapped his chin.

_ Stare at the numbers. _

Captain Shade wasn’t nice, yet here he was, traveling with her and her little menace across the galaxy. He doubted this lady could be as rude as Captain Shade. But Captain Shade didn’t make him uncomfortable like this, and even if she ever did, he’d bet that it wouldn’t be on purpose. Like the Torguta lady was doing.

“Well, ma’am, I’ll still be nice to you.” And then, as if the Force had sensed his awkwardness, the doors mercifully opened and Corso shot out of the lift, matching MT-4T’s pace.

The droid beeped something. It sounded… sarcastic?

Corso skidded to a stop out of the lift’s view. His face felt like it could melt a whole slab of Nerf butter. “Are you mockin’ me?”

The droid spun in a circle and snidely rolled away at a walking pace. It beeped.

He took it as a yes. “Well, then, lil’ bugger, where’re we goin’? Or did you get us lost?”

MT-4T stopped rolling. It beeped questioningly.

“I ain’t tellin’ you where we are- Blast it.” Corso broke into a sprint after the damned thing as it burst into a rush. 

_ Where’s it goin’ so fast- _

“Oh no you don’t!” He leapt in front of the droid. “You are not goin’ in there.”

The cruiser’s cantina was behind him. Electric pink lights reflected off MT-4T’s scratched dome. And Corso was trying to avert his eyes from the holographic dancers doing… extremely flexible things. No, he was not letting Captain Shade’s droid in there.

“Shorty, knock it off.”

_ Great. _

Corso grimaced as Captain Shade approached. MT-4T pointed an accusing arm at him. “I wasn’t about to let him go in there, Captain.”

She ignored him. “MT, you know you’re not supposed to go into cantinas without me.” Captain Shade’s boot shot out and hooked around the droid’s wheel base, spinning it around to face her. She knelt. “Now I want you to go back to our room, got it? I don’t trust anybody here and someone’s gotta keep guard on our stuff.”

MT-4T beeped.

“No, Corso’s with me. We gotta eat. Can you guard the bunks?”

The little droid’s extendable arm shot out and gave her a salute. It rolled around her and started down a hallway, beeping the Republic Anthem at full volume.

Captain Shade watched her droid go silently.

“That was nice of you, Captain, givin’ him something to do to make him feel important.”

“I don’t trust anyone on this ship.”

“Includin’ me?”

She didn’t answer as she entered the cantina.

 

* * *

 

 

Carmadda slammed the shot glass down on the counter.

The bartender sucked, so she’d stuck with shots. If he messed up shots, she was climbing behind that counter and taking over, with or without her permission.

“Thirsty, lil’ lady?” A trader from Ord Mantell, dressed in his greasiest outfit, smiled from his stool next to her.

Carmadda gave him a long look.

He shifted to show off his most flattering angle.

Over his shoulder, she caught sight of Corso trying to escape a Torguta who had him pinned on the dance floor. He caught her watching and mouthed ‘help’.

She slid off the barstool and spoke to the trader. “You’re slimier than a greased Hutt, pal. Fuck off.” She didn’t stay to see his reaction. Carmadda wove around the dancers until she was close enough to grab Corso’s hand if she wanted to.

The poor farmboy was so far out of his comfort zone.

The Torguta was wearing… it was black and covered the important stuff, and that was it. She was leaning against him, dancing fast and jiggly bits hitting Corso in the chest. And she kept trying to get his hands on her. He kept yanking them out of her reaching, making it look like some new, weird dance fad.

She didn’t really want to rescue him. She wanted to get drunk.

_ Fuck. He watched MT-4T. And helped me. _

She owed him. Carmadda snagged his hand as he tried to keep the Torguta from placing it on her hips. She yanked him to her and spun around to put herself between him and the lady.

Corso grinned his thanks. He wasn’t a natural dancer.

She took pity on him and grabbed his hands.

“Excuse me, he’s mine.”

Carmadda smiled spitefully at the Torguta. “Back the fuck off.”

“Are you together?”

She knew the girl meant romantically. But technically she and Corso were travelling together. Close enough without having to lie. “Yeah.” Carmadda slung one of Corso’s arms over her shoulders. “We’re together. Now scram.”

The Torguta watched them.

Fine, whatever. She could sell it. She owed Corso. She pulled Corso towards the exit. “C’mon.” Carmadda flipped the bird at the lady as they left.

“Um… Captain?” His face was deep red under his tan.

“What?” She shook off his arm as soon as they were out of sight.

“Thanks for savin’ me.”

“I’ve been there. Usually gotta save myself.” Carmadda paused at one of the giant viewports, taking in the rushed light of hyperspace. It felt different seeing it from a common traveler’s point of view, and not coming right at her in her cockpit.

Different didn’t mean bad. And getting her ship back meant doing things differently. Fuck. She’d meant to get drunk and was now starting to feel feelings again. Time to make the most of it. Carmadda turned awkwardly to face him, not wanting to say anything but feeling like she had to. “Thanks, Corso.”

He blinked, taken aback. “What for?”

She shrugged before her mouth could start off on it’s own.. “Just… helping me. I’m not used to having a partner.”

He didn’t respond for a minute. “You know, Captain, you’re real hard to figure out.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“Well, sometimes you’re nice and all, but then sometimes you’re real mean.” He didn’t say it hurtfully or spitefully, just an honest statement. But the truth stung a little.

Carmadda turned back to staring out at the streaks of light.

Corso had fallen silent, watching the light, standing next to her. His face was leached of color in the glow, scars stark.

Maybe… Maybe having someone watch her back wouldn’t be that bad. Carmadda inwardly sighed. Now she felt guilty and there wasn’t a bar to get over the guilt. She’d have to use her words. “Sorry.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So how ‘bout that war, Captain?”

Carmadda stared into her tea mug, but no, her capacity to think wasn’t in there. It hadn’t been in her first mug of tea, either. She stifled a yawn and gazed sleepily at Corso. “Wha’ war?”

He gaped at her over his… small feast of breakfast foods. It looked like he’d raided every food stall for one of everything. And then went back for seconds. She had a soggy looking fruit turnover and a bowl of a weird blue paste.

Something about him was more open after last night. Or maybe it was her, deciding to try and trust someone, even just a little. Being nice was harder than she remembered.

“The war! You think the Republic’ll stop hiding behind the Treaty of Coruscant an’ admit they want the Empire wiped out? It doesn’t sit right,” he continued as he speared a vegetable with a fork. “Negotiating with people who want every man, woman, and kid dead.”

“No they don’t.”

His head snapped up.

“I’ve smuggled for some Imps. They aren’t half bad and they pay better. This one Sergeant Pierce once paid me half a million credits for a weapon prototype.”

“A weapon to be used against Republic soldiers!”

“The Republic’s corrupt.” Carmadda realized that she’d be dealing with one of it’s corrupt members later, and decided that she’d need something stronger than weak tea. Something with enough liquor in it to get a rancor into a stupor.

Corso wasn’t giving up. “Republic doesn’t kill anyone like you who speaks out against it. That’s a good thin’, too.”

Carmadda sipped her tea, trying to remember what booze she kept in her kitchen. “You practicing your speech for office, Farmboy? Going to be the one Senator that can’t be corrupted?”

He looked insulted until he cause the small smile on her face. “You’re teasin’ me?”

She let the smirk answer.

“But you’re tellin’ me you don’t think about it? What the Imps do?”

“No.”

“I do.” Corso poked at another mystery food with his fork. “I joined the Peace Brigade when I was fourteen. I know what a world’s like when the Empire’s done with it. It’s worse.”

Carmadda stayed silent. The cold war… she’d only seen bits of it on the ‘Net when she lived with the Senator, the tight atmosphere of diplomatic meetings, the whispers of secret plans. Eye rolls. Snide jokes. Mama kept her away from most of it. She had family in the Empire somewhere. Plus the Imps paid a hell of a lot more for anything. And Dad had gone out of his way to keep her from any war or picking sides. ‘It’s the people, Slugger, not the side,’ he used to say. Neutral would be a great word for her. Or that she didn’t give a flying fuck.

Corso was definitely a patriot.

“What’s the Peace Brigade?” She tested out blue stuff in the bowl. It was disgustingly sweet. She took another bite, waiting for his response.

“It’s a relief organization. Go into worlds abandoned by the Treaty of Coruscant, help people displaced by the Empire.” He stared through his food, eyes distant in unpleasant memories. He gripped his fork with white knuckles. “I was a kid, looking for adventure. After two months… Let’s just say there’s no kids in warzones.”

“Everyone’s gotta grow up.” The blue paste didn’t sit well on her tongue anymore. “Some people the hard way.”

MT-4T leaned against her leg under the table with a mournful murmur.

Corso shook his head and went back to attacking his breakfast.

Carmadda wondered if it was too early in the day yet to drink. But then showing up at the Senator’s office drunk was a bad idea at best. She’d have to get her hard stuff out after the meeting.

An announcement echoed over the nearly empty food deck.

She stacked her bowl and mug together. “C’mon, Farmboy, we’re getting off in fifteen minutes. Hope you’re ready for hell.”


End file.
